


Two In One

by Shinocchi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet, Character Development, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, M/M, POV Third Person, Plot Devices, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Ship Manifesto, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: He's an existence most deemed to be unneeded. Yet he exists. He exists in every other human being, he exists in a way that even the most conscious living being could never be able to control.He'sDesire; he's the innate, most impulsive conscious of a person -- an existence that's both terrifying and exciting.A story told from Desire's perspective, venturing into the very beginning where he first obtained conscious, up to an alternate ending that is a wish he has always yearned for.





	1. Being Aoba

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo! I couldn't figure out a better time to write this story, or rather, this ship manifesto than today because this is a birthday gift I'm writing for myself yeehaw~!  
> Aoba & Desire always have a special place in my heart, and them being together has always been a guilty wish of mine. So now, I figured it's finally the best time to write them an ending I've always been foreseeing despite untold in canon. I had to study a lot on Aoba as a character but everything I've come upon him has been a delight on its own and I need to stop before I start rambling about how much I love Aoba haha! It's also perfect for this date -- 22 -- because they're both, well, _both_ two persons, hence 2 yet similar yet two 2s (do I even make sense anymore lmao!) But yes, it's a very good excuse(?) for me to finally write this story and it's going to be huge since it's spreading throughout pre-, during and post-canon so three chapters dedicated to different eras of Aoba being... well, Aoba.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you'll enjoy this story to the end!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated if you ever feel like dropping me a message! :D

**Being Aoba**

 

Desire, the intrinsic nature of all human being – the part of being human that is the both terrifying and exciting at the same time. It is the root of motivation, the reason why adrenaline rush could be so astoundingly gratifying, and also the ultimate reason of why human beings are able to pace out of their comfort shell, discover the depths of themselves that they are often too afraid to admit themselves.

It is the realest part of being human that tells no lies, hides no truth, and reveals itself like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s normal for them – Desire exists for the sole purpose of being _real_ , answering questions that the human being themselves is too diffident to face. It’s the reason why every human being is different, why instincts sometimes react stronger than anything else.

Desire is the reason why human is human.

He’d come to know about this very truth ever since he gained his own conscious. He’d gotten used to waking up in the dark, engulfed in the immense sense of solitary before he searched for a sign of life. Darkness had been his friend for the longest time, and he knew it’d be for the rest of his life. He never yearned for an escape – it wasn’t his duty. His responsibility was to maintain balance, to _support_ , he shouldn’t be doing anything more than that.

But he’s more than that. He’s more than just a support – he’s _desire_. He wasn’t meant to maintain, he was meant to be something _more_.

Between his three counterparts, he was deemed to be the rebellious one, the one that was the most opinionated, the one who _seemed_ like he wanted to escape more than anyone else.

Reason had always been a fond existence to him, he was stuck in between wanting to _own_ him and wanting to _support_ him, two very different purposes of his existence that he needed to choose from. In the end, he chose the latter; not because he didn’t want to own Reason, but because Reason was way too out of his league for him to grasp hold of him. Not yet, he’d tell himself. Reason was everything how a human should be – he’s the core of being human and as _one_ , he shouldn’t be breaking the balance and then breaking them once and for all.

So he stomached the intention. He suppressed it back down, attempting to approach Reason with the most natural way he deemed was right. But he’s not alone. Restraint was with him, he was with Reason too – and Restraint’s entire existence was a challenge to Desire himself: for he’s the absolute opposite of what Desire should be.

 

“Hey.”

Speaking to him was something he wanted to avoid – he could never conjure a proper conversation with him anyway. But sometimes – like now – he’d find himself approaching him, taking glee in the way Restraint portrayed obvious sense of jumpiness before he started,

“What do you think about him?”

“… about who?”

“Him.”

He didn’t think he’d need to spell it out clear as day for Restraint to know who he’s referring to. Restraint obviously knew. Falling silent, he only came back to Desire after what felt like a few minutes of profound consideration.

“Reason is a good balance,” that’s all he said.

“Well, that’s because he has us. We’re helping him with his balance too.”

“You could be right,” Restraint said. “But he’s been doing everything well by himself too.”

“Haha!” Desire laughed. “That’s not possible. We are not normal, can’t you see? He can’t live without us.”

Restraint seemed like he was about to say something but he didn’t, retreating back to his usual silence. Desire had never deemed agreeing with him a necessity for him to function. He knew what he said was right, what Restraint said was right too, but he wasn’t going to argue on each other’s belief at this point of time. They weren’t meant to be compatible – definitely not him and Restraint – but they were indeed important parts that would determine how Reason would turn out to be. They talked to Reason on a very frequent basis, trying to influence him over to their side. Desire never understood why Restraint worked the way he was but he was quick to brush the idea of attempting to understand him out of his mind.

They never meant to understand each other after all.

Though, he had to admit that the recurrent counterargument Restraint would throw at Reason whenever he talked to him was becoming very aggravating to handle.

“Hey,” he called out to Restraint again, when Reason was away and his conscious dimmed.

Restraint didn’t answer, as usual.

“I’ve been wondering – do you ever think of having fun?”

“Having… fun?”

“Uhuh,” Desire said coolly. “Like, setting yourself loose, do things that you’ve never tried before. _Wild_ things, that is.”

He could clearly hear Restraint’s disapproval when he spoke next.

“We are not supposed to do those kind of thing,” he said. “We’re supposed to guide Reason to the right path.”

“’Right path’, huh?” Desire sniggered. “What’s right to you may not be right to me, can’t you figure that out already? So stop pushing your idea onto me.”

Restraint fell silent, and Desire wasn’t sure if he was contemplating his words or he simply refused to have more conversation with Desire.

“What’s the point of staying in your own shell all the time, doing nothing but the same ol’?” Desire continued, regardless if Restraint was listening or not. “We exist now, we should do things that are _not_ boring – something that makes your heart thump so fast, your blood rise to your brain. Things that make you feel alive.”

“That also means they’re things that would swallow you alive and drive you towards destruction,” Restraint retorted.

“Hmmm,” Desire pondered. For once, he couldn’t completely disagree with Restraint. “That’s right. But what’s wrong with that?” he paused on purpose, just so he could mock Restraint better. “What’s wrong with destruction?”

He’s born with that – he had the power for destruction, to destroy and to be destroyed. That’s the reason for his existence after all.

“You’re insane,” Restraint said after a long pause. “I’ll never let you influence Reason.”

It was Restraint’s answer that had him realize how discriminated he was, and how potentially insane he could be in others’ eyes – if he couldn’t live the way that he was supposed to, what’s the point of his existence then?

Was it even necessary for Reason to have him then?

Ever since then, his fights with Restraint had never ceased. The more Restraint was to argue with him, the more heated he’d retort, as if he was doing it merely for his own satisfaction. And of course, the consequences came in the form of excruciating pressure for Reason, who was merely a child and who was taking the surface of their identity. It was all pure impulse, how he wanted to fight with Restraint just for the sake of it, how he’d search for all the possible ways to talk to Reason, with or without the presence of Restraint. Reason would always speak to him. He had tons of questions, and Desire would be more than happy to answer every one of them. But Restraint always interrupted at the best timing and it infuriated Desire to no end.

It’s until one day when Reason could no longer stand their bickering that he decided to stop listening to them, escaping by running towards the beach, completely isolating himself from their voices. They were blocked off all interactions with him, for the first time ever since they gained conscious.

They could no longer hear him – the next time they could, he already had a name – _Aoba_ – and it’s a name that even Desire had come to love.

“Aoba,” he spoke to himself, as he sat in the corner of his oh-so-familiar darkness.

“Aoba,” he repeated, as if trying to memorize it, trying to savour the flavour of the name on his tongue.

Then, he lifted a smirk.

“Aoba.”

He loved the name. He knew who gave it to him, but he never knew the reason behind it. He knew the person was what they called one’s father, a family, even though he couldn’t grasp the concept well himself. But it didn’t matter – what mattered more to him was the fact that he was no longer _different_. They had a name now, one that suggested of identity, something that’d latch onto them for the rest of their life. This was _theirs_ , they’re no longer abnormal.

Being _Aoba_ , they could now live life like any other normal human being. With a _family_ , they could now live the life they’ve always dreamed of – even though Reason would no longer talk to him, nor Restraint, he knew that this could only be the best.

If he didn’t need him now, then it’s fine.

He’d only resurface if Reason pled for him – or for when time needed him to.

The only problem was, he never expected the _time_ to dawn upon him in such an abrupt, hasty way.

He knew about his parents leaving them, and he knew about how Koujaku had come into Aoba’s life then, being the next closest person Aoba could always rely on. But Koujaku’s departure was the real trigger that had Aoba completely crushed, taken away by the whirlpool of breakdowns that put him at the brink of losing himself. He’d wanted to resurface when his parents left, but his grandmother was strong, she was strong for Aoba – and she did everything she needed to do to keep him in balance. He thought Koujaku would be the solution to every other solitary Aoba had been facing. He had faith in him, he let Koujaku handle everything that’s necessary. It’s not his turn to lend a hand. Not yet.

But Koujaku’s departure had Aoba falling into an abyss he was once in, letting himself fall and crumble and shatter into pieces and dust that his conscious was so imbalance it almost destroyed the entirety of his existence. He witnessed nights where Aoba would either cocoon himself in his blanket, lights off, surrounding dim, refusing to speak to anyone; or he’d find Aoba wandering into dark alleys, sitting in a corner, head buried in between his knees. It was a murky period of isolation. Nothing Tae did ever work on him. And he was so close to breaking down that he found his conscious fading, one step away from him tumbling right off the edge of the cliff and into a route of no return.

And, after one night of intense breakdown later, he decided that he could no longer sit and watch Aoba going through all of these pain by himself. He’d have to make his move now – he’d need to take over Aoba, and _be Aoba_.

 

Being Aoba was… unbelievable. He didn’t even try too hard to suppress Reason back in – Reason gave him the full control, passing the baton to him, clearly exhausted as he found himself developing a more dominant conscious within Aoba that eventually became his. He acted on pure impulse, he did what his instinct told him to and for the longest time ever, that had been the only voice he listened to, despite realizing how different his intrinsic personality clashed with the way he acted now. But Reason never stopped him from doing anything at all. He merely stayed immobile, allowing him to _be Aoba_ and eventually, his power succeeded over even Restrain, turning him into the sole _Aoba_ in control.

He wasn’t sure what he should do at first. Owning a body was strange – having to walk on his own feet, having his own hands to move and touch; everything felt way too new to him. He would walk around crassly, searching out for something that he could do – something _interesting_ , at least – and couldn’t care less about whatever consequences that’d cause him. He tried drugs, alcohol, everything that was deemed to be the _interesting_ thing in Midorijima, but none of those held his interest for very long. He’s _Desire_ , and there’s really no point if he couldn’t find any stimulus to thrill his imprudent nerves.

Until when he walked pass an alley, filled with nothing but trash, that he found his footsteps stop, eyes glimmering at an item in the midst of the piled up garbage, then finding his legs bringing him towards the item all by themselves.

“Hmmm…?”

The item wasn’t even outstanding – it was dark, dirty, definitely an AllMate (something that he’d been seeing around) yet definitely not what he’d expect himself to bring around if he was to have an AllMate.

AllMate… huh? He never thought of owning an AllMate himself, there’s no real need for him to own one anyway. For all he knew, it was merely an extension of his hands – a support – that would look after his needs and make his life easier. He stared at the lump of blue in the midst of trash – his eyes closed, his tiny pink tongue stuck out of his mouth, all his limbs seemed to be functioning perfectly as he laid, stock-still, like a broken doll.

He lifted the AllMate up, quick to recognize that it’s one of a dog type before he held him closer. It’s filthy, and obviously abandoned. He stroked its dishevelled fur, untangling strands of them and then patting it gently on the head.

“You’re abandoned too, huh?” he muttered. It’s sad seeing him in this state – abandoned because he was no longer useful, because he was simply another victim of fate he had no option to choose from. But it’s sadder for him to abandon him – once again – here so he decided to tuck him into his jacket, bringing him along with him, and wondering if he was doing the right thing as he walked his way home.

Customizing an AllMate wasn’t an easy challenge, especially so when he had absolutely zero knowledge of how he should customize one. He found all the tools he needed, hauled the old computer out of the store room and put it in one corner of his own room. He sighed cripplingly as he stared at the tangled portions of wires scattering all over his floor. It’s hard to even move at this state but while he felt just a tad of remorse, he sat in front of the computer, carried his AllMate and settled it by his side. He turned the computer on, squinted his eyes on the coding and programme instruction on the screen and felt a weight fall into his stomach. This is starting to become very troublesome, he thought. He leaned, back hitting his bed as he gazed at the screen, wondering if he should keep going. Then, his eyes fell on the unconscious puppy by his feet, the fluffiness of his fur a deadly distraction to his conscious mind as he sighed loudly again, sitting up and started typing on the keyboard.

It took him one whole week to figure out how to properly customize an AllMate. He connected the wrong wires between the AllMate and his computer before groaning at the red error starting all over again. He tried many times; every time he was near to failure, he started again. He wouldn’t allow himself to stop now that he’d wasted way too much time on this. And at long last, he booted the AllMate system successfully, studying the information on the screen before he stared at the name.

“…Ren?”

He looked at the dog – his name is Ren, huh? he deliberated, should he change the name? Or should he leave it be? Would the AllMate have memories of his past if he was to activate it? Would he remember his name as Ren? Then, he remembered how he was given his name, how it’d feel if someone was to change his name out of his own consent and clicked enter on the name – having the name ‘Ren’ attached to the front of his mind.

“Hmmm,” he hummed as he studied the other details. Nothing seemed to difficult. Everything that he was seeing suggested of a type of statistics that he’d only seen on characters in those battle games he was used to playing. Was an AllMate a weapon for some sort of game then? He mingled around, clicked on a few panels, and started altering his stats like how he would with the games he’d attempted before.

“I wouldn’t want a noisy companion,” he mumbled to himself as he set the AllMate’s personality to ‘blunt and stable’. The last thing he needed was a loud nagging partner, not when he was already having constant war with his own mind. He customized the outlook, even though he had no idea what it was all about. He gave it a cape, a helmet, then pulling his body to be just a tad bigger than him just so he could defend him from anything if he ever required him to. And lastly, he checked the stats again, smiling victoriously from everything he’d worked on and clicked on the final button of confirmation.

“Now… how should I activate you?” He plugged the wires out of the AllMate. For some reason, there was this intense sense of anticipation surging from his insides – he couldn’t wait to see what type of machine he’d created, and how this very AllMate he picked from the trash could start moving and talking to him like he expected him to.

It’s like finally finding himself a friend whom he’d never need to ever worry that he’d betray him. He could shut him down anytime he wanted if it did happen, anyway.

He flipped the dog around, trying to find a switch but to no avail. And then, it’s when he was about to give up, putting the AllMate on the floor, his palm pressed against the top of his head that he heard a soft click, a soft signal of activation, before his eyes blinked at the moving lump of blue by his side.

The AllMate blinked, slowly turning around to look at him, the first word he said had Aoba springing up, hugging him, and running towards his grandmother, asking for her favour to bath him:

“ _Aoba_.”

 

 


	2. Sly Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking control was all he wanted, but was all he never thought he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a fill-in for Sly Blue era, which is a very prominent period of time for both Desire and Aoba. Writing this era has been a pleasant surprise, I'm considering expanding on it in a different fic (not this one, need self-restraint before it meanders off into a different league of things haha!). In order to write this chapter, I have also gone through both the games and the relevant side stories to capture details and have compiled a timeline [here](http://shinocchidesu.net/post/156199326599/slyblue-era-timeline) for anyone's reference. Hope it helps!
> 
> Thank you for reading, as usual. Kudos and comments are always appreciated if you enjoyed this chapter :)
> 
> Note: Mentions of drugs, please proceed with care.

_` You thought you have everything under control, that this is what is good for **him**. But boy, you’re wrong, you’re so very wrong.` _

 

Ren enthused his life into a whole new direction. He wasn’t used to having something trailing by his side, following him wherever he went, talking to him, reminding him on things he used to forget – he wasn’t used to having someone knowing him more than he knew himself. Ren felt like an extension of him, literally so. It didn’t take long for him to find out who he really was, even though he had no intention whatsoever to change thing from what it already was. With Ren, he remembered to take his meals, he avoided pointless problems, and he tended to figure out where the most interesting happening in town was, no longer needing to gander around just to be dawned by disappointment. Ren was also the reason how he’d come to know Rhyme, when the AllMate guided him to one of the back alleys he used to ignore, leading him to witness the first ever Rhyme game in his entire life.

The flickering lights blinded his vision, strong rays of them trouncing him in the eyes, hurting them. Yet, he found himself mesmerized with the scene, unable to turn his vision away from it. He was completely captivated by the provoking lights, as if they were shining unswervingly into his skull, threatening to break it apart. Flashy music pulsated in his ears, screeches almost turned him deaf. The longer he stared, the more vivid the sensation of being _in there_ , as if he was fighting, playing, being part of Rhyme reverberated from within him – this was a game that was meant for _destruction_ , a brain-crushing game that was meant for _him_.

“Heh,” he elicited a low-slung smirk. So this is what Rhyme is all about. He’d heard about it before but seeing it up close like this was a first. He knew it was the hottest thing in town now. He knew it was a game that was close to being synthetic, something that was so _destructive_ and _treacherous_ but he never expected it to be _this_ intriguing.

Just one erroneous move and one would be shattered; not physically, but mentally, the mind of it rumpled into nothingness. He didn’t even need to move his limbs much in this fight, unlike all the physical confrontations he’d been involved in. Everything happened in the mind, all he needed to do was to give the dead-on commands.

It’s a fight in the head – something he was very much used to.

He returned after that, just to check on Ren’s stats, tweaking them more just so he could be compatible with the other fighters. He’s an old model, sure. But the model of an AllMate wasn’t everything that could guarantee victory. And above all, he trusted Ren, which should be a factor more than enough to promise him an upper hand in this game.

His first Rhyme game ended up with bruises and a lot of cursing and a half-broken arm but he won. _He won_. Victory had never tasted this gratifying in his entire life. It wasn’t just the fact that _he won_ his first ever game that was giving him such an hallucinogenic feeling of obsession, but it was also the very fact he’d witnessed how much potential this very game had that he couldn’t help but be attracted to it. He became _good_ in his first try – he could see through actions like they were his own. It’s a talent he thought was gifted to him, a compensation given to him for all the years he was curbed in his own head. Rhyme was _made for him_. He truly wanted to believe it to be so.

 He had _powers_ he never knew existed – _destructive_ powers that could crush another like it’s the most natural thing to do. He could feel the temptation to do exactly so in such a penetratingly strong way whenever his opponent fell to his feet.

 _Destroy him_ , the voice would say. _Just one more push and you would be able to do so_.

But he never did.

This was supposed to be just a game, he shouldn’t be taking it so seriously to the extent of taking life.

The consequences were too heavy for him to bear after all.

He’s fine with how things were now. Yeah, he’s perfectly fine with it.

 

Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_ could make him feel the exhilaration he achieved from Rhyme. He drowned the remaining of the alcohol down his throat, feeling warmth gushing from within him as he sat against the wall, the air damped and cold around him. _Hot_ , his head throbbed. He could hear his heartbeats loud and clear in his ears, his nerves propelling from being overexcited. The next Rhyme match wouldn’t start for the next hour and all he could do was sit here, rotting away, feeling as if his life was being gradually eroded down the drain. He squashed the can, threw it aside and pressed his head against the jagged bricked wall, breathing cripplingly. Could a person die from extreme heartbeats, he wonder? His heart felt as if it was about to burst out of his chest anytime soon and there’s nothing he could do to calm it down. It’s as if there was something within him that was shouting to be released, pleading to explode, _threatening to swallow him alive_. He wiped sweat off his forehead, the corners of his lips curved into a small smirk as he laughed, lowly and mutedly.

Maybe if he closed his eyes now, he’d never wake again.

Does it matter, though?

Does it matter if he woke or if he did not?

He has nothing to do with his life anyway. He’s constantly wasted, he never goes home. All he does is play Rhyme and all Rhyme does is making his life a bigger mess than it already is.

Sometimes he’d wonder if he’s dreaming or if he really exists. He’d sit in the back alley, just like how he’s doing now, and stare into nothing, only coming back to himself when Ren prodded on him.

What would happen to him if he never found Ren, he wondered.

Would he still wander around aimlessly like how he used to?

Would the absence of Rhyme in his life make any difference to how he’s bringing himself now?

Or would he live a better lie for “Aoba” than how he’s doing it now?

“Haha… Hahahaha…”

The laugh resounded, echoing deafeningly in the back alley, spattering out of him without him noticing. _He’s fine_ , he told himself. His life is wrecked, sure. But he’s _alive_.

He’d never felt so alive in his entire life.

“Aoba!”

He turned upon hearing his name, just to find the gang he used to hang out with running towards him, hands waving.

“Yo, Aoba,” one of them called. Aoba brushing his hand off when he attempted to touch him.

He stood, almost toppling before he pressed his palm against the wall, balancing himself.

“Oi, you okay?” another man teased with a small punch against his shoulder.

Aoba glared, a gesture enough to keep them quiet. Nothing good would ever happen every time they were to cross path. And soon enough, he caught sight of a larger group behind them, creeping around both ends of the alley, unmistakeably had them cornered.

“Tch, what have you don’t again?” he hissed. The other men only responded with a bitter smile.

“The usual,” one of them replied, resulting in a vulgar sigh from Aoba.

He knew they were only using him as a fighting tool ever since they witnessed how physically strong he could be despite his body size. But it wasn’t like he had anything else to do anyway. Rather than decaying in the cold, might as well shove his body towards the limit of its endurance level.

“Let’s get this over with,” he pronounced, cracking his knuckles as he hauled his hood down, then heading towards one end of the alley he was closer to, shadowed closely by his other group members.

Fights were exciting too – the sensation of aggressive skin-against-skin contact, of the sounds of breaking bones, of tasting blood in his mouth, knowing that it’s part of himself that’s breaking down, that pain was an existing, _real_ sensation that he could very much feel now. He wasn’t particularly fond with physical violence but he’d take anything that came his way just so he could feel more alive than he already did.

He wiped blood off the corner of his lips when he kicked one man unconscious, retreating to lean against the wall, catching his breath. He glanced around: fights were still continuing, bodies fell and lied like it was just another common Midorijima scene. Clicking his tongue, he shifted his gaze away from the commotion and stared at the sky instead when he heard new footsteps joining the scene.

Was it the police?

He turned an apathetic mien, finding himself staring at two unfamiliar silhouette, a frown forming instinctively in between his eyebrows. He had no time to be bothered by newcomers. This fight had been ongoing for too long and any longer would only disrupt what he’d planned for himself today.

It’d be easier if it’s the police in any case.

“Excuse us for intruding while you’re in the middle of something. Do you have a moment?”

He couldn’t be bothered by whatever conversation that was happening between the two intruders and the rest – it must be some redundant argument concerning the turmoil either of them had initiated and Aoba never wanted to be part of it. Heaving a sigh, he turned his back before he was stopped by the same voice who’d held them back.

“Sorry, you over there, could you stay for a while more? The others can leave now.”

He clicked his tongue, looked over his shoulder, and throwing a “What business do you have with me?” with a tone that sounded of loud annoyance.

“Sorry for disturbing you, we just want to have a quick talk with you.”

 _It better be quick_ , he cursed inwardly.

He was sure that he’d never heard of their names when they told him. He couldn’t help but lift a smirk, wanting to take advantage over the situation before it could take over him.

“You two look alike, are you twins?”

But his sarcasm was quick to be countered by the both of them, even sounding like a hint of displeasure Aoba had no idea of the source. It frustrated him. These two men looked like nothing but a pair of punks and the more he talked to them, the more he felt his patience at the verge of dropping off the cliff. He wasn’t used to being retorted, in such an off-the-cuff manner, even.

They’re dangerous, he immediately concluded. He wanted absolutely _nothing_ to do with them.

“We’ve been doing a bit of investigations lately and we found that you’re one of the strongest persons around. Not only in Rhyme, but in fights as well. The man you kicked just now,” he paused, taking a quick glimpse at the unconscious man lying not far from where they were standing. “just an ounce more of strength and it’d be more than enough to kill him, isn’t it?”

Aoba frowned deeper. Seriously, what _exactly_ is the problem with these two? What do they want from him? Are they polices in disguise, interrogating him meanderingly so that they could arrest him and lock him up in jail or something?

“I didn’t intend to kill him. It’d be troublesome,” he brushed it off, hoping that it’d be enough for them to retreat.

But he was wrong – they continued bugging him, staring at him as if he was some sort of display in a museum, which did nothing but aggravate him even further.

“Do you have a grudge against me in Rhyme or anything? Just spill it already,” he demanded.

“Nothing like that.” But all he’d gotten was another one of those casual response, one that told him that they weren’t taking him completely serious either. “You’re quite famous, Sly Blue. You’re a long-time winner, after all.”

“We’re your fans, Seragaki Aoba-san,” the other man was quick to continue, as if noticing the irritation Aoba’s voice.

 _Don’t joke around with me_. What do they expect telling him something like that? Do they expect him to be amused? To be flattered? Do they really think that he cared about fame at all?

“Don’t glare at us like that. We mean what we said, we have no ill intentions at all.”

Aoba didn’t believe in whatever they said after that. Even if they were _really_ his fans, they were merely sucking up to him anyway. Nothing they said should be taken seriously, just like how no one should take anything he said seriously as well. He had no business with this kind of people. He had no time to be signing on one’s shirt and doing cool things to charm people. He didn’t belong in that world.

“It’s nothing amusing,” he said, as if he was talking to himself, reminding himself of who he really was. “Rhyme, or whatever there is – all of these aren’t anything amusing. Whatever I do, nothing changed, everything will remain the same.”

That’s why there’s absolutely no reason for anyone to be his fan, he’s merely playing a game like how everyone did anyway.

“Rhyme is different from fights,” he continued, another reminder. “In Rhyme, you have to crush another person’s will to win. You can destroy another person’s body, but physical fights can only do that much. _That’s_ more interesting.”

Not the game, but _this_ – _this_ is the true reason why he’s still playing Rhyme despite knowing how controlled the game could be.

It’s such simple to the extent of terrifying. Yet such a simple game could crush another’s conscious in the flick of the fingers, tossing them into an abyss of no return, where savage was non-existent.

“Aoba, the next game is about to start soon.”

Ren’s voice brought him back to the present. He’s right. There’s no point faltering over what he’d left behind now. He’d taken over the surface – he’s _Aoba_ now. And all he should do now is whatever he wanted to do to his heart’s content, with no restraints whatsoever.

“Aoba-san.”

He halted at the call of his name, giving the two men yet another one of his dismissive stare.

“If you could look the opponent in their face when you fight them, perhaps you’d be able to find a more delightful truth than the game.”

Are they trying to teach him how to play Rhyme now? he laughed inside.

Despite brushing them off, the advice they’d given him dawdled in his head. It was a temptation he wanted to try but was always stopped by the _reason_ that was still very much existed within him. He didn’t want to get rid of _him_ completely, he was still _him_ after all. And despite their frictions in the past, the affection he held towards him was still something he could never let go. Yet, there were times when the mere thought of wanting to discard him overwhelmed him from the inside when the allowed the innermost of his desire to take over him, almost causing him to step out of the line he’d drawn for himself before he pulled himself back, totally petrified by the wild temptation surging from within him.

It’s dangerous. Something about Rhyme had casted a powerful curse on him, luring him into this trap that had him almost losing himself.

And for the first time ever since he started Rhyme, he _feared_ the game – the potential of it, of what it could do to _him_.

 

 “Ah, Aoba-san.”

Ever since then, he found himself crossing paths more and more habitually with the pair of not-twins. He’d find them in the alley he always hung out in, or even on the streets, in broad daylight or even late well past midnight. They’re like a pair of shadows, following his traces no matter where he went. Even now, Aoba still had absolutely no idea of what they wanted from him – they acted utterly as if they were his _real_ fan, following him without much words, only striking a conversation when necessary, often on things that mattered the least.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, simply out of the need to tell them that he’d noticed their existence.

“Yo, Aoba,” the taller man, whom he later came to remember as Trip, leaned closer, bending down just a tad so that he could see Aoba on the same eye level. “Thought we might find you here.”

He wouldn’t even be surprised that both of them already had his schedule learned by heart, even though he was pretty much random himself when it came to deciding where to loiter next.

“What do you want this time?” he asked again.

“Haha, Aoba-san is as cold as always,” Virus, the other man, smiled, an expression that was way too superficial for Aoba to take it seriously. “There’s a cake shop we want to try and we thought perhaps we could ask you to come along too.”

“Cake shop?” What are they? Kids? “Why do you think I’d be interested in something like that?”

“Aoba looks like one who’d like sweets, though,” Trip teased, the corners of his lips curved just a tad higher.

“Huh?” Aoba frowned. Was _he_ being treated like a kid here?

“So, would you come with us, Aoba-san?” Virus pressed.

It’s annoying and unnecessary and definitely a waste of time but it didn’t seem like they’d let the matter drop if Aoba was to slip his way out this time. With a weighty sigh, he said,

“Where’s this place you want to bring me to?”

“It’s just around the corner,” Virus elevated a sneer.

Aoba waved a hand, walking down the street without another word and having both of them to follow him by his side.

There’s nothing interesting in Midorijima, even Rhyme could be lacklustre at times – especially when victory had become such a common thing for him he could already smell it the moment he met his opponent upfront. Everything’s too predictable. But _them_ , though. Aoba knew nothing about them, he couldn’t even gauge what’s in their mind, and what their motives were. Yet, there’s this strong sense of hunch within him that told him that they’re more than just ‘his fans’, like how they had put it. They were _something else_ , perhaps something disturbing, something like a time bomb, something engrained by his side so that he would erupt and explode him from within the moment Aoba let his defence down.

Despite feeling so, he allowed them to do whatever they wanted – he let them follow him everywhere they wanted without shooing them away, bringing him to the most unexpected places and talking to him in ways that were so natural it’s as if they’d known him for the longest time ever. At the very least, having both of them by his side now made his days just a tad more anticipating than when it used to. He wouldn’t know when they’d pop up, they didn’t need to tell him either.

It’s like they knew him better than himself, as if they knew truth about himself that he’d been dying to know – the reality of his existence that was buried so deep in him that he had no idea when it’d come back and haunt him and ultimately crush this very _him_ that he’s trying to preserve into dust.

There’s nothing that was required of him when he hung out with this pair either; he simply needed to be himself, there’s no need for courteous talks, nor did he ever need to conceal how he truly felt about anything at all. If he didn’t like something, he’d openly express it with no restraints whatsoever. If he did like something, though, a rare occasion of its own, the glow on his face would be such an obvious trait of his that even the pair could effortlessly spot. Like when he showed apparent disinterest towards the overly sweet cakes they’d ordered for them, Virus was quick to switch them to puddings, casually rescuing his attention.

He took pleasure in the freedom of him being able to be like this – no expectations from him, just being _him_ , fuelled with _desire_ to meander around as spontaneously as he could, like a horse released off its ropes.

He’s _desire_ , after all – a perpetual reminder he gave himself. And even with the very thin layer of _reason_ still prevailing within him, it shouldn’t stop him from being able to do what he wanted as how his nature would call out for him.

“Aoba, the next game is in five minutes.”

“Huh? Oh.”

He froze in his tracks. Oh, right, Rhyme. Scratching his head, he gritted his teeth in hope that the uninvited frustration within him would fade away. He’d been too out of himself lately, even to the point of no longer wanting to be involved with Rhyme. This shouldn’t be happening. It’d be bothersome to find another source of entertainment, not even knowing if such thing even existed in this island. If nothing worked anymore, his only option then was to leave this place, to somewhere else where things weren’t as trapped as how it was now.

“Aoba?”

“Ah, yeah,” he responded fleetingly.

He stood from where he was sitting in the alley, following Ren to where a commotion had begun. Would today’s game be interesting, though? he thought and sighed at the possibility of yet another round of boredom.

“The opponent this time is pretty strong, he has a 90% victory score.”

“Oh?” he whirred in amusement. 90%, huh? It’s still below his own 100% record but he guessed he shouldn’t be demanding with whatever he could get now, especially when scoundrels were all that’s left on this island.

“Aoba, you might need to be careful,” Ren advised.

“Haha, what are you talking about? Nothing will happen. I’ll win, as usual.”

Ren didn’t say anything after that. He’s too familiar with this Aoba. Regardless of what he was to say, there was absolutely no chance to change his thoughts once he’s set with them.

Anything more would only cause more annoyance, anything less would cause boredom; Aoba was indeed hard to satisfy.

“Here we go,” he said, hands in his pockets as he witnessed the familiar bright lights splitting the darkness clean.

His opponent was one of tenacity, a trait he immediately identified. He definitely held a different vibe from the usual opponent he was used to – he obviously knew how to play the game, even coming close to giving him a fatal hit if Ren hadn’t been defending him on time. There was this sense of ecstasy pulsating from within him, his pulses pounding ferociously in his ears, blood boiling with every passing second he spent in the game. It’s been a long time since someone could come close to defeat him like this and he was intrigued, so very entranced by the idea of facing his first downfall that he continued pushing himself, until when Ren eventually landed his final blow that the game came to an end, leaving him in a state of confusion mixed with wild fatigue.

“Perfect game as usual, Aoba-san.”

He looked up, heartbeats still thumping sadistically from beneath his chest and found himself staring at Virus, who was wearing his usual smile.

“That was close,” Trip carried on, a follow-up Aoba had been expecting.

If he ever lost his grip in the game earlier, he was sure that he would’ve lost the game. But he didn’t. Regardless of how close he was to failure, he’d always pick himself up, the _instinct_ within him pulling him on the arm and away from the cliff. It was something he had no control either, as if he was born with it, like a separate entity that he never knew existed.

“Aoba-san, are you okay?” Virus spoke. He’d been quiet for too long now, his mind a complete mess. But he pulled himself up and turned his back towards the pair, completely ignoring them.

They were still following him when he walked out of the alley. He let them – he always let them. He’s still feeling the tremors from the game and he had no energy whatsoever to deal with extra burdens anymore. He had nowhere he wanted to go, he could only dawdle around, walking aimlessly, until he’s back to himself once again.

As he leaned against the wall, taking profound breathes, he realized that every ounce of pressure he had been trying to sustain up to now might been too much for him this time.

He needed a relief.

He rummaged around his pockets, finding a bottle of pills. He hadn’t been having them for a long time now – even that had lost the thrill for him but his was one of those times that he wanted nothing but a release from this weight in his chest, from this suffocation that was threatening to make him lose his mind. _It’s fine_ , he thought as he pulled two pills out of the bottle. Once everything returned to normal, he’d be able to function as normally as he always did.

He tossed the pills into his mouth, letting them trundle down his throat and closed his eyes, regulating his breathing. His mind felt incoherent, his limbs lacking strength, he felt as if he was floating in the air, in a reality he was familiar yet unfamiliar with.

Darkness had returned to him like an old friend – the profound solidarity, cold, and the excruciating sense of being unneeded. Sometimes, he’d wonder if this was the reality that truly belonged to him, that perhaps he should never persist over being the one in control. Perhaps the reason why he was feeling such now was because he was forcing himself to be in a spot that didn’t belong to him in the first place.

“Haha… Hahahahaha…”

He’s at the verge of losing himself and he could feel it so clearly it’s terrifying. What’s the point of him trying so hard when nothing was his in the first place? Why did he have to exist? Why did he have to know so much, so curtly, in such a painful way?

Whatever. Really.

Nothing else mattered now. He could fall and lose himself and let himself loose and everything would be fine.

All he ever wanted was to have pain and pleasure running through his veins and engulf him, _burn_ him, crush his bones and flesh into oblivion and let his existence disappear into dust.

He heard voices – distinct, vague. They sounded as if they were talking to him. He was drawn towards the voices. He spoke to them, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying himself – something redolent, seductive maybe, most likely a temptation.

It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember. He’d gotten what he wanted after all – that sweltering sense of seduction that had put his veins on fire, and the destructive force crushing him from the inside that was a sweet, _sweet_ temptation for him to fall back into his abyss of darkness, of nonexistence.

 

“…san? Aoba-san?”

He opened his eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight trouncing his vision the moment he made sense of his surroundings. He was lying on the bed, in a house, away from the cold and stranded back alley.

“Aoba-san, you’re awake.”

“Where am I?” His throat hurt when he spoke. Something must have happened when he’s knocked out, or something must have caused him to be knocked out. His memory was elusive, he couldn’t make out how long time had passed either.

“You’re in a safe place,” was all Virus said.

Lifting himself up, he clutched his head, massaging his thumb against his temples, the migraine now skulking up on him.

“Aoba-san, are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said sloppily. He moved out of bed with great difficulties, looking around, then gripped his bag from the foot of his bed. His entire body – in and out – was pounding in intense pain, as if someone had beaten him up gravely in his sleep. His insides felt like they were being shredded apart, as if they were about to breakdown anytime now.

He was in such a bad shape that he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d stepped out of the line this time. It was even a miracle to find himself still being alive.

He left the place without more questions. He didn’t feel like asking, and he didn’t feel like he wanted to know the answers to what exactly had happened to him either.

He didn’t feel like he would ever be ready for them.

 

Ever since then, something in him seemed to have flicked his reckless switch on, setting him loose way more than he already was. He was involved in more fights, more Rhyme games, and every time he was pushed towards the edge of his endurance, he found himself no longer able to pull himself back, letting his emotions run amok as he beat every single opponent near death, Rhyme or not.

He was back to being his full self, the one that was not possible to be restrained nor reasoned with, every part of his sanity out of control.

Then, it was finally when his belligerence reached its peak that he _truly_ experienced the sensation of no longer being able to feel who he really was, his ‘self’ thrown utterly out there, out of him, exposed and fragile yet powerful and destructive enough to _destroy_ his opponent to the last piece of their remaining conscious.

It was then that he realized that this was nothing he wanted. He felt betrayed, he felt like he’d betrayed someone, he never wanted to kill another person, to take another person’s life with his own hands and he knew that _he_ would never want it as well. To see the very truth of his own wrongdoing lying right in front of his very eyes – the man unconscious, unsure if he’s dead or alive, and the spectators eyeing him as if he’s some sort of monster – smashed a sort of truth into his head, reminding him of who he really was and why he could no longer exist.

He destroyed everything – his connection with others, his image, his pride, _himself_. And from the moment the pressure of his self-dissociative fell upon him again, he knew that he’d fallen out of himself, and that he’d never be the same ever again.

 

“Yo, Aoba!”

He sighed. What have he done to have earned himself consistent pestering humans like this? Nothing interested him anymore now. Ever since he was released off the hospital, he’d quit Rhyme, realizing how _dangerous_ he actually was. For the first time in his life, he encountered fear, not because of losing, but because of how frightening he as a person was. He didn’t even know he crazed power that could be so destructive like that. But now, he felt as if it’s part of him, waiting to blow up and cause devastations in a level that he could never be able to control. The last thing he wanted was to lose control of himself, not when _he_ had entrusted the forefront to him. That incident was a huge wakeup call to him, telling him enough that he – like how Restraint and Reason had always told him – wasn’t as composed as how he thought he was, that his existence was a threat to the society and the first-hand experience was so tormenting it had him pondering if whatever they said about him never being able to fit into the society a truth after all.

He was scared, to the extent that he was ready to submit. So he took a step back, allowing his mind to take a clearer view and making the decision he deemed was the best to retain the balance back into himself.

“What do you have planned today?”

The man’s name is Mizuki, a man who’d approached him out of nowhere when he was moping in his usual spot in the back alley, patting him on the shoulder and smiling so ecstatically it made him feel so out of place in his presence. He didn’t know what business he had with him, like how he never knew what business Virus and Trip had with him when they approached him. But Mizuki presented a totally different vibe from the other to – with Mizuki, he felt more hassle-free, he trust he held towards the man a natural instinct of its own. Sometimes, he could even see through Mizuki as if he’s made of glass, his intention ever so distinct, so genuine, and yet so barefaced. He told Aoba that he wanted him to join his team – Dry Juice, was it? – and that he wanted him to feel belonged, which had Aoba snorting at him.

Belonged, huh? A word that was a far-fetched dream: a word that he’d been searching for his entire life. How did Mizuki know how he felt anyway? Was this what they called a hunch? But he couldn’t be bothered. No one – _absolutely no one_ – would be able to understand him more than one sole person. Everything would only be a waste of time, the fact that someone wanting to be associated with him a huge joke of his own.

But despite the many times he brushed Mizuki off, he still found himself in the presence of the Rib team leader, even though he didn’t mind his company at all. With Mizuki, he wasn’t expected to respond to any of Mizuki’s rambling, neither was he expected to give him an answer to every trivial question Mizuki threw at him. Mizuki obviously tried very hard, he’ll give him that. His presence splattered a different layer of vibe above his own and he wished to view it as a hint for him to move forward, on a better route this time.

“Dry Juice is like my home,” Mizuki once told him. “I hope it’ll be yours too one day.”

He didn’t respond, as always. He’d stopped playing Rhyme, but he had no intention whatsoever to be involved in another team, let alone a Rib team. Physical confrontations weren’t his favourite method of playing a game, he no longer wanted to be involved with anything destructive that would make him lose himself again either. The accident lingered in the corner of his brain. Every once a while, he’d find himself waking up abruptly, drenched in cold sweat, from yet another round of nightmare. The sensation of _destroying_ another person was riveting, he couldn’t deny how he felt about that, but yet, he knew that taking pleasure in this very sensation was _wrong_. Feeling pleasure in destroying other’s life in such an impulsive way was… _wrong_.

Everything he felt was wrong.

“I’ll wait for you,” Mizuki continued, noticing that he had no intention to give him the answer he wanted.

He wanted to tell Mizuki to stop trying, but something in him stopped him from doing exactly so – a hesitance he never knew was possible to exist within him.

Was he changing? Was this the change he wanted? Was this the change he needed? Was he still Desire? Was he still Aoba?

He had no answers to all the bugging questions in his head, he had no idea who he could ask for answers. He had completely lost direction in his life, no longer knew what he was seeking from it, and no longer knew if every decision he made was the right one for himself, for _Aoba_.

Should he return the authority to Reason then? Was Reason now stable enough to take the lead again?

He wasn’t part of Dry Juice, but he was welcomed as if he was part of them. He felt the sense of belonging Mizuki promised him, but at the same time, he felt a similarly strong sense of detachment that he was more familiar with than the former.

He needed no team, no partner – he’s fine with himself now as long as he stepped within the line he drew and cause no troubles.

But it’s all his one-sided wish. Despite wanting to leave his past behind him, nothing in Midorijima was ever a secret, especially not when he was and still the legendary champion in Rhyme. His past recklessness came in the form of disastrous consequences when he found himself cornered in an alley, facing groups of tens that were past opponents he’d defeated. It was troublesome, but he needed to pull himself out of the situation and all he could do was fight as much as he could, as if he was trying to fight his past away, sneaking out of it and acting as if nothing had happened. This was all his own doing, he knew it very well. But acknowledging it was too much of a hassle and was a tremendous hit to his own pride. A garish voice rang in his head every time he was to tell himself that everything was fine, a voice that was a contrast to what he wanted to hear, a voice that told him loud and clear that _nothing_ that he was going through now was ever fine. He’d need to face the truth sooner or later, regardless if he liked it or not.

And then, the delayed effect punched him hard in the face when he found his grandmother crying by herself in a dark living room on his twentieth birthday. The scene was so strong it crushed his insides to pieces, nothing he’d ever felt from Rhyme nor fights.

 _Ah_ , he thought. _What have I done?_

Since when did he stop returning home? Since when he’d forgotten that he still had a home? Since when did he lose sight of what’s _really_ important to him? Since when did he start taking everything for granted?

And since when did he forget who he _really_ was?

For the first time in many years, he cried. He wept his lungs out, head buried in the pillow as he let his suppressed feelings out. His emotions wrecked him from the inside, his chest tight, his eyes and his throat sore.

A night of loud sobbing later, he woke, feeling so light as if every other pressure he’d been shouldering was finally lifted off him. He was released overnight, the weight vanishing into thin air along with his realization that took the form of tears and screams. He talked to Tae, apologized, and on that very same day, he’d come to notice that there’s only one way he could return the balance into Aoba, after a painful truth of how he’d screwed everything up simply from being who he was.

 


	3. Two In One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the best ending for them -- it's what everything they wanted, it's everything that was nothing but normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written to be published on Aoba's birthday (22/4/2017). Happy birthday, Aoba! :')  
> This year for Aoba's birthday, I wrote an ending I personally want to see for not only Aoba, but also for Desire, who deserves so much happiness for everything that he had been through. Desire has a very special place in my heart and I really hope all that I've written for this story is enough to at least express a small ounce of how much I feel for him. 
> 
> A caution note, though. This chapter contains spoilers and referencing scenes to Morphine route in re:code, which presented the most of Desire's character. I'm still in the midst of putting up the complete, refined translations but as whenever you read this story, you can find it [here](http://shinocchidesu.net/scripts), if you ever need a reference to some parts in this finale.
> 
> Aside that, it could be read completely on its own, no problem at all :)
> 
> I'm very, _very_ glad that I finished this story. It's something that I've been wanting to write for the longest time ever and I'm very happy to see it becoming a thing of its own. This story means tons to me, seriously. 
> 
> And without more dillydally, thank you for reading this although I know that this story might read a bit (or a lot? haha!) different from a lot of stories you might fine on the internet. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! <3

_Reason is an idiot._

_Reason is a huge,_ huge _idiot_.

He loved him; he really did. Not in the way typical couples would define love as. Not in the way like affection and fluttering in the heart and the crushing way every other person would feel when they’re in love. What he felt towards Reason was different – _way different_. It was the need to hold close without needing to do anything anyone would expect them to do. It was the way he was keeping him intact, just to keep him safe, just to make sure that he wouldn’t need to go through things that he had gone through.

But some of the things Reason did drove him up the wall and he couldn’t even recall exactly how many times did he have to subdue his urge to jump out just to save him. Reason was strong. He always was. And he knew that he was part of the reason why Reason couldn’t muster enough common sense to tell where he should put the limit. He wouldn’t have to face so much agony if Tae hadn’t been restricting him to speak to him, to be honest. He didn’t even know what he did wrong. All that he ever wanted to do was to remind Reason of danger. He was sensitive to that, after all. But everyone, even Reason himself, saw him as nothing but a threat. Just a mere hint of wanting to speak have Reason pushing him out of the door. His voice could no longer reach him, even Ren had more voice than him now, which often had him laughing at himself, wondering if it’s karma biting him in the face when Restraint now had more power than he ever had.

It’s not like he was going to give up, though.

He was, after all, unreservedly obsessed with Reason. And he was, after all, _desire_.

He would never go down without a fight.

Usually, he’d close an eye and let Reason deal with the consequences if it was nothing too serious. Reason was definitely way more obedient than him and he was sure that he’d live well if he kept himself behind the line. Which he always did. So he found no need for him to interfere his life if he was doing well. There was something that he could never control though – his exhilaration towards Rhyme. Reason might not have the slightest interest, he might even not remember that he was once an avid Rhyme player, but Desire held every memory of Rhyme close to his heart. It was an important part of his life, a part that had made him feel the most alive, after all. And the mere approach of Rhyme had him finding difficulties trying to suppress his own excitement, resulting in causing accidental pain to Reason.

 _Oops_ , he’d always say.

He wouldn’t say that he loved sitting in his dark corner and doing nothing but that’s the best he could do now. Aoba was stable; it’s everything he wanted. Aoba didn’t need him now. He’s living his life, he’s recovering, and Desire shouldn’t be the reason why he would lose himself again.

But again, Reason is a huge idiot. And he’d proven himself once again when he lost his own control over Scrap, almost _killing_ a man – one his closest friends, even -- if Desire hadn’t been interfering with the process.

Everyone could call him cruel, destructive, rude, unnecessary. Whatever. All that he knew was that he only had one and only one mission and that was to ensure that Aoba could be retained on the right state, the right sanity, enough to function.

Scrap had hurt him and he knew Reason would never be able to shoulder power as heavy as this.

He had no other option.

He said heaps of contemptuous words to Reason and he meant every one of them. It’s enough pampering him. Reason needed a rest and he had been far too tolerant with his insensibility to allow any more damage to his conscious. So he decided to take the chance, do it the insanely harsh way, and took over the surface again.

He really couldn’t be bothered by what anyone was to say about him.

He was only doing what he needed to do, despite being forceful about it.

But owning a body, being able to move around as _Aoba_ again was a great pleasure of its own. He missed it. Being able to move his arms, his legs, just his entire body, as he wished. Being able to speak as he liked, regardless if they’re intended to harm or unintended to damage. Suddenly, everything felt right again. Pushing Reason back into his conscious gave him freedom so wonderful that he didn’t even mind joining Mizuki’s so-called family – “Morphine” – even though everything he did was driven by the raw instinct to have fun. He could’ve destroyed Reason just like that and everything would be his. Even if he needed to stay in Oval Tower, even when plotting to overthrow Toue, making him submit to him, seemed like a far-fetched dream, he’s actually making his own decision and that had never made him feel as “Aoba” as before.

He could just end Reason; he had the power, _terrifying_ power, in fact.

But he didn’t.

He simply let him sleep. He wanted to hate him. He wanted to tell himself that Reason didn’t matter anymore, that whatever he’d felt from him was simply an illusion because of him being one with him. Everything was simply a deception to fog his verdict of him being a _better_ Aoba than Reason ever would.

He told him to stop thinking about living as _Aoba_ , to stop making decisions which would only destroy Aoba.

He made him sleep.

“We’re a team now,” Mizuki had told him. It made him laugh. It wasn’t like he joined Morphine because he wanted to realize Mizuki’s dream for him. It was because Morphine was the most exciting thing in the meantime. He’d go anywhere that could promise him the pleasure he wanted, even though that meant having his sanity crushed, or having his body parts being torn apart.

He remembered when Mizuki told him about Dry Juice being his family and he made him ponder – in Mizuki’s current state now -- being nothing but Toue’s puppet -- would he still deem Morphine as part of ‘family’? How did he define family, anyway? Simply being in the same team, doing the same things together?

Even when everyone was nothing but a sheer puppet?

He couldn’t’ understand. The concept of a family was way too mindboggling for him. He couldn’t understand why it should be important. He couldn’t understand the insinuation of it. So he thought, perhaps he should just go with the flow. Who cares about family anyway? Life is too short to be worrying about acceptance. He just wanted to have fun.

And soon enough, as expected, he got fed up of Morphine. Physical confrontations were never his forte and he hated having to deal with aggressive skin-against-skin conflicts if they weren’t going to give him the pleasure he needed.

He was tired of having to follow orders; he got tired of Morphine, and Mizuki. Everything everyone promised him turned out to be a white lie.

“You cannot quit!”

He’d never seen Mizuki acting in such way before – the unruffled, always cheerful Mizuki, now completely losing his calm, acting like someone so insane he could hardly believe that he’s facing the same person whom he deemed his oldest friend. All only because he said he was bored of being part of his family. Back crashed against the wall, Mizuki glared into his eyes, gritted his teeth, his breathing hot and lunatic against his face.

He hated having to deal with this.

What’s the big deal, anyway? He’s simply another puppet. No one needs him anyway.

“Morphine needs you… I need you!” Mizuki shouted into this face, which had him snorting inwardly.

Pretty words… Everything are simply pretty words. Everyone only wanted his strength, his power; no one ever wanted _him_.

He was just a tool, after all – a fate decided for him since fate.

Who decided on that, though? He’d thought about the same question when Toue first confronted him the day he set foot into Oval Tower. Was God the person who’d decided on his fate? Who gave God the rights, then?

He’s not going to tolerate this. He’s not going to fall prey into the trap of an unknown being who seemed like they were deciding everything as how they liked it.

He hated it. He hated how these people used authority to control others and making them – _him_ – their slave out of their own will.

If this what his so-called fate is, then he’ll change it.

He’s not born to succumb. Not when he’s _desire_.

Mizuki’s entire changed ever since he left Morphine. He’s no longer collected. He stalked him everywhere he went – he became a downright mess. And Desire knew that he was the reason for why he was being so. He should be happy; he really should. He had always wanted to destroy and he’d done it – he’d destroyed the one person he deemed closest to him, the person who’d known him for the longest time, and the person whom he thought _understood_ him.

It should be a victory he could brag at Reason.

But he felt nothing of it – no sense of accomplishment, and above all, he felt as if he’d lost over winning.

It infuriated him. He dreadfully needed a distraction to pull him out of this mind-set, to tell him that he’s still himself, and that he’s still _desire_. He dreadfully needed a conviction that every out-of-place feeling he was experiencing now was merely a phase of balancing Reason out of him.

And then, he found Rhyme. Again.

 _Ah, yes_ , he thought to himself. Rhyme. It’s always Rhyme. Rhyme would always be there to remind him of how much he yearned for destruction that’s way more than just physical.

He thought that this would be the solution to pull him out of his misery but again, it didn’t. He felt worse than ever, as if everything was going wrong. He’s confused for a long time. He’d wanted this – his own body, the freedom to move around as Aoba – and he knew that he’d been fighting for this for a long time.

But why… why does everything feel wrong now?

Who could give him the answer to this anguish of his?

Who could help him out of his shell?

Who could save him?

He wanted everything to end already, regardless of how it would end.

When Reason forced him back into his own conscious, meeting him on the beach with Restraint – the all-so familiar place where everything started -- it was as if he was responding to his calling. He felt as if he’d been waiting for this for a long time, even without he himself realizing. He laughed; not at Reason, but at himself. He never thought his own senseless direction had resulting in having to confront and be confronted by none other but himself. And he never noticed how much he wanted to see Reason, to have him proving him right about everything he’d done. Reason would laugh at him, at all the mess he so confidently pulled. Then, he’d reprimand him for destroying what he wanted to protect most. Reason would do all those. He wanted Reason to do all those.

But Reason didn’t.

Instead, he listened to every he had to say, reacting to none of his aggravations. When Reason spoke, it was in a gentle tone, so patient that it hurt him. _It hurt him so much_. How could Reason treat him like this after everything he’d done to him? After all the mean words he’d thrown at him? How could Reason be so… tolerant with him?

He accepted him, taking in every frustration he’d suffered through, acknowledging them, acknowledging _him._

How dare Reason be so… good for him?

He tried. He really did. He withstood his composure, he’s not going to break down. Hell no he’s going to break down.

“You’re not wrong. Your intention to protect ‘Aoba’ is genuine,” Reason said.

“I’m sorry for leaving you in the dark. I’m sorry you had to face everything by yourself. But you aren’t alone, not anymore, not ever. I’ll always be here, by your side. We’ll always support each other.”

“We’re always together, right?”

“So, come back.”

“Come back.”

Every word Reason said intended to crush his being into oblivion. Every word he said was nothing but everything Desire wanted to hear, his words impacted him in such a brutal, _effective_ way it swept him into a turbulence of emotional breakdown and he was sure that he would’ve broke if he hadn’t been holding himself well enough.

In the end, it was Reason’s touch that had did the job for him. He held his hands in his, gentle and genuine; all attempts to reach out to him. His smile was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his entire life. Ironic, seeing how they literally had the same face.

But Reason is… different. Reason radiated this tender light that he could never possess. Reason was the motive why he fought so hard, why he could still survive, and why he thought it’s okay to just try a bit harder.

Reason was his everything.

He returned Reason’s clutch with equal fervour; he wanted to do more. More. But Reason wasn’t ready. He probably would never be ready. And for a long time since they were both accepted as being ‘Aoba’, he no longer wanted to force Reason into anything at all.

Just having him like this, being accepted, should be more than enough.

It should be.

Being accepted and being able to accept gave him a sort of fulfilment way greater than the one he’d achieved from Rhyme. He never knew he was silently craving for it, even. And Reason was the one who’d spread that light onto him.

Of course it’d be Reason. He was sure that he’d only come to accept how things were now because of Reason.

Reason was always his soft spot and would always be. Their conversations were less but every word they spoke with each other weighed in a way nothing could ever compare. He revelled in the way he could tease him openly yet being responded with the most innocent-looking mien that told him enough of the difference of level between them.

He could be quiet for a long time, just dawdling around in the back of Aoba’s mind and soon after, he’d find Reason knocking on his door, calling out for him, asking him if he’s alright.

He’d never expected meek gesture like this would affect him. And it took him a long while to finally set his mind on it, finally acknowledging the very fact that this was indeed how love feels like.

Reason never knew, though. He treated him like he would himself, like he would a normal friend. Desire never knew what Reason really thought about him, though; he never asked. A support? Just himself?

He didn’t know how to ask him, either.

“Hey,” he called out, one day after they’d gotten out of Oval Tower, after the whole Toue incident came to an end. Still hospitalized, he’d constantly strike a conversation with Reason like this, in a space that’s only the two of them. Mizuki had just left then, leaving behind a packet of peaches after promising that he’d visit him soon.

“Hm?” Reason responded, munching on peaches.

“What do you think about Mizuki?”

Reason choked on his fruit.

“W-what’s this all of a sudden?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What are you getting flustered for?” Desire chuckled. He hoped he could’ve hands to wipe those stains off Reason’s mouth though.

“That’s because you’re asking a weird question!” Reason retorted.

“Is it weird, though?” Desire wondered out loud.

“Me aside, what do _you_ feel about Mizuki? There seems to be something going on between both of you that I don’t know.”

“Hmmm,” Desire recollected. It was true. He and Mizki had been sharing intricate dynamics with each other that could easily pass as a misunderstanding. But his feelings weren’t his concern.

Would Reason mind whatever that had happened between him and Mizuki? Did he remember that accident he shared with Mizuki in Oval Tower? This body wasn’t his alone, after all. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Reason actually called him out for it.

“Hm?” Reason pressed. He could hear the tease in his voice. And he wasn’t sure why he’s infuriated just by that tiny tipoff.

“More like do you mind if we do things to this body?” he returned with a comment that’s totally not what he intended to. He was definitely letting heat run to his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s technically _my_ body too, no? And you were the one who said I could do whatever I want.”

Reason fell silent, thinking. Then, he said, slowly and casually.

“So both of you _are_ in that kind of relationship, after all?”

He wished the agony he heard in his voice wasn’t his illusion.

He wanted to hug him.

He wanted to hug him _so much_.

“So what if we are?” he pushed. He didn’t know why he’s doing this.

“Ah, haha, well,” Reason scratched the back of his head. “I don’t feel like I have any rights to decide what you want to do so… do whatever you like? As long as you don’t hurt this body too much though! I don’t want to be waking up with sores and such, you know? I’m the one who has to work an eight-hour shift everyday, after all.”

How could a person be so _dumb_?

He wanted so much to strangle him but instead, he surfaced, slapping himself on the face, and going back in again, leaving Reason to grumble at him for acting like an immature kid.

He adored Reason. He knew it from the bottom of his heart. He wasn’t sure since when did he hold this feeling towards him but before he knew it he was, desperately, forlornly, in love with him. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling, nor did he know if he should do anything with it. There was nothing that could be stemmed from this. They’re _one_. And sooner or later, they’d be completely _one_ , quite literally. Sooner or later, he’d be _Aoba_ , living with Reason as one entity. And sooner or later, Reason would no longer be able to hear his voice, even though he was given full control of everything he wanted to do now.

He didn’t know if he should tell Reason about how he felt. He didn’t know how Reason would take it, or if it’s a good idea to begin with.

If he told him though… perhaps they’d have a chance to spend the last of their time together then, in a completely different manner than how they’re living life now.

If Reason knew his feelings, perhaps they’d be able to come to know each other better too.

If.

“Yo, Aoba!”

Reason kept to his promise. He was allowed to come out anytime he wanted and Reason had absolutely no objection about it. He lived as _Aoba_ , and he surfaced indiscriminately. Even when he did, all he would do was walking around, looking into corners of Midorijima that he was once very well-versed of, and sometimes, like now, bumping into acquaintances that he knew were Reason’s friends.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Koujaku had called out to him when he turned a corner, coming to where his shop lied. Since the Platinum Jail incident, Koujaku had settled down with his own shop, no longer being freelance. Reason had been perfectly glad about it, but he wasn’t sure if he could forgive how Koujaku had almost caused Reason to lose his mind when he took his abrupt leave in the past. He didn’t particularly mind when he bumped into his ‘friends’, though. What’s more troublesome was having to think of something appropriate to respond with whenever this was to happen.

“What are you doing here?” Koujaku asked. He seemed to be clearing things up for the day, his shop clean and quiet, with no customers around.

“Just taking a walk,” Aoba dismissed nonchalantly.

“I see,” Koujaku smiled. He stared at Aoba then, without a word, as if he had something to say.

“Spit it out already,” Aoba frowned.

“Just wondering if you have ever considered having me to cut your hair,” Koujaku said.

“Huh?”

“Well, you see. You don’t feel those pain in your hair now, do you?”

“Not really.” The weird sensations in his hair had well gone since they got out of Platinum Jail anyway.

“So I thought if I could give you a proper haircut. If you want, of course.”

“Heh, what’s this?” Aoba lifted a suggestive smirk. “Some sort of pickup line?”

“W-what—“

“It’s no use with me. Maybe you should catch me another time, when, you know, when it’s the other me.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I don’t intend to ask you, well, you’re you. And is there a difference, anyway?” Koujaku chuckled a bitter laugh.

Aoba raised a curious eyebrow.

“I mean, both of you are Aoba anyway, right?”

“You don’t feel any different?” He was genuinely curious. It’s the first time someone else but Mizuki had told him this.

“I guess there are some differences but nothing getting used to wouldn’t fix,” Koujaku grinned, ruffling Aoba’s hair as he did. “You should cut yourself some slack, you’ve been through a lot already.”

“Cut if off,” Aoba grumbled as he brushed Koujaku’s hand off his head. “Well, you could ask the other Aoba. He probably would take up the offer.

“And you won’t?”

“Me? What about me?”

“You won’t let me cut your hair?” Koujaku grinned brighter, inching closer as he did.

“…It’s whatever,” Aoba responded at long last. “Anyway, I don’t have time for that today. Maybe next time?”

“Alright then. I’ll try my luck another time,” Koujaku straightened himself with another smile. “Though I hope the next time I ask, it’s still you whom I’ll be asking. And perhaps I could also hope for a yes.”

Aoba smirked at that response. Giving Koujaku a wave of hand, he stuck his hands back into his jacket pockets and turned his back towards his childhood friend, already wondering where he should stroll next.

Reason had told him that he had no obligations whatsoever to be friendly with everyone if he didn’t want to. And honestly, it worked great for him. He didn’t want to feel the responsibility of having to be nice to every friend of Reason’s when he’s just being himself. But, oftentimes, as he reflected on the attitude he’d been giving these people ever since they’d come to that mutual agreement, he came to a shocking realization of how much he’d changed from his attitude before and now. He was more easy-going, and he’d always take his time to talk to the people he met. More importantly, he seemed to be way more accepting than he was before.

It’s definitely Reason’s influence. There’s definitely no mistaking it.

He wouldn’t even mind if he was to continue being like this for the rest of his life, just being in Aoba, being able to come out once in a while. He could talk to Reason whenever he wanted and Reason would listen to him. It’s everything he wanted, yet, he knew himself too well that this freedom was short-lived, that everything that was given to him now was simply a guilty second chance that he knew he probably didn’t deserve.

He was being given a chance to feel how being Aoba really felt like.

He shouldn’t ask for much.

This feeling… he probably should let it sink with him. Telling Reason would only complicate things. Reason would definitely want to do something, knowing him. That’s perfect why he couldn’t tell him.

And that’s why he’s so dreadfully in love with Reason.

He kept Reason close to him despite that. He tried his best to interact with him. He adapted to him. He had become more and more _reasonable_ even without himself noticing. And it’s bad on its own. Because that could only mean that everything was progressing in the best way for the both of them – that eventually this conscious of his would fuse and they’d then be completely one.

Just like how it should be.

“I couldn’t tell you apart nowadays.”

His beer bottle stopped before it could reach his lips. The sound of someone cheering from a far distance fleetingly distracted him as he put his beer bottle down on the table.

Mizuki was his final straw. Mizuki was the person who’d always been seeing them as one ever since he first met him. And the fact that Mizuki had now come to the realization that they were no longer different was a huge hit in the face to him.

They were surely becoming one. There’s no mistaking it. And there’s nothing anyone could do to stop it.

He lifted a smirk, the one that he was confident belonged to him.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You aren’t very much different from the beginning but I still tend to notice a different vibe when you approach me. But now…” he paused, leaning forward to look him closer on his face. “I can barely tell. You just… feel the same.”

He laughed. This time, at himself.

“Happy?”

“Huh?”

“That you finally no longer need to deal with me.”

He didn’t know what he was referring to. He didn’t mean to confuse Mizuki. But somewhere in him, he still hoped that he could preserve the part of _desire_ in him that was what made him him.

“I’m happy as long as you’re comfortable. It doesn’t matter to me.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. With a click of tongue, he drowned the rest of the alcohol down his throat, supporting his face with his palm as he sank into his own thoughts.

“What’s the matter? It’s very unlike you,” Mizuki grinned, slinging an arm around his neck.

He looked away. Every word Mizuki said sounded like a harsh reminder, even though he knew that it wasn’t done on purpose.

“Something on your mind?” Mizuki pestered. He’s good with that. Aoba will give him that.

“It’s fine,” he said at long last, trying to brush Mizuki’s hand away but to no avail. “It’s better this way.”

“You mean becoming closer to being one?” Mizuki asked, just to make sure.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to answer, neither did he know how he felt about it.

“I don’t mind if you remain as a separate entity, to be honest. But that would be a burden to Aoba’s health, right?”

Reason must have told him before – all these matters about balancing himself, about uniting all his conscious into one just so he could feel more normal.

“But I guess, at the end of the day, as long as Aoba exists, I’m fine with anything.”

He turned to look at him. Mizuki was still wearing this cheeky grin on his face and he was surprised that he was no longer angered by it, when he usually would.

He released a small laugh. He’s right. As long as Aoba is still alive, as long as Aoba still _exists_ , nothing else really mattered anymore, right? They weren’t meant to be separated after all. He should’ve known this since a long time ago. And they’d promised each other, didn’t they? That no matter what was to happen, they’d always be together.

“Well, you’ll have to deal with Aoba for a long time more, I guess,” he said with a smirk.

“My pleasure.”

He wanted to trust Mizuki’s smile and Koujaku’s promise. Everything around him, every person who’d come into contact with Aoba. He wanted to trust all of them – that they’d keep firm to their promise and take care of Aoba when he could no longer do so.

He really wanted to trust them.

That sense of relief only became stronger as time passed, when the integration between his conscious and Reason’s became all the more sturdier and harmonised. He couldn’t explain how it felt to be part of Aoba’s – or rather, Reason’s – mind but it was a sort of therapeutic process that had him closing his eyes, resting his brain, and for once, he kept all his thoughts shut, his nerves under control, simply letting his body, his mind, his soul, soar in the space of no gravity. He could feel it, the crumbling of his own conscious, and the integration with Reason’s. He’s instinct after all.

It was only a matter of time when he would need to face it at long last.

Reason didn’t need to know too much. He didn’t need to know what was actually happening. He simply needed to live life like he always did, like how it was for him before he came to know who he really way. Desire’s entire life was to protect Reason, protect Aoba. And if this was the last thing he could do, he’d do it. Until the very end.

Despite that very sound in his head that had been consistently telling him to let go, he couldn’t. At the very least…

 _At the very least_.

He wanted to talk to Reason.

One last time.

If that’s the one last thing he could do.

Lulled by the languid flow of tide, he sat on the beach as he watched waves slobbering onto sands. The sloshing and gushing of the waves created a soft tranquillity in his mind. The beach – _this beach_ – was always his comfort zone. It’s ironic, because he’d once thought that the darkness and quietness of being inside of Aoba’s mind should be a space he’s more than familiar with.

The beach was nothing of those. It was warm, breezy, and peaceful. When he took in a breath, he could clearly smell the scent of salt, accompanied by the scent of sea; things that he’d come to find comfort in.

This was the place where he once lost connection with Reason. It was a place where he first learned of loneliness. Abandoned, he’d retreated into the back of his mind, looking after Reason from afar, being an option. He should feel detached from everything here but yet… this was also the same place where Aoba became Aoba.

He hurled a quiet sigh, then closing his eyes, before he leaned backwards, hands behind his head as he lied on the sand. There was only one reason why he had returned here -- they were now back to square one, to where everything began, so that they could end everything.

Perhaps he’d be stuck here forever now, gazing at the same sea, hearing the same lapping sounds of waves against shores, and smelling the same scent of salt and breeze.

Perhaps it wasn’t too bad an idea after all. Perhaps this was where he should be.

He wanted to sleep, to shut his thoughts so that he could accept this reality better. But he wasn’t alone; the sound of footsteps had him opening his eyes. Quiet, steady footsteps.

He sat up. From a distance, he could see a shadow that’s very like himself, making unhurried steps towards where he was sitting.

He merely stared, his emotions a mess.

He thought he’d never see him again.

And yet, here he was, wearing the gentle smile he was ever so familiar with, looking at him with tender gaze he had come to love.

Reason came to stand by his side without saying a word, just a smile. He had no idea how he should take this, nor did he have any idea of why Reason was here.

“Why…” he mumbled. He was all prepared to be left alone again. Just disappear. Quietly. Like how he should. He thought the last wish of his was nothing but a far-fetched, one-sided dream. But yet, why did fate think that it’s a good idea to give him hope, just to take it away from him later?

Whoever’s playing God has a very, _very_ bad taste.

“Thought I’d never see you again,” Reason said, with his all-so-calm tone. “I panicked, you know?”

He stood up, coming to face Reason upfront.

“How?” he asked. “And why are you here?”

“I’m part of Aoba,” Reason explained. “If I want to see another part of myself, it’s not hard for me to do so.”

Indeed. It was how he’d managed to talk to him the last time too – here, as well. Well, he wouldn’t expect less from someone who could duplicate his own conscious. Perhaps _he_ could be duplicated as well. He’s just an option after all.

“So why are you looking for me?” Desire asked.

“Do I need a reason to see you?”

He chuckled. “I guess you don’t. But I don’t see why you would.”

“Don’t lie.”

His eyes brightened. What is Reason talking about? Lying? Him?

“You’re thinking about leaving without telling me? How dare you.”

Reason was tittering when he said that but Desire knew him too well to catch that hint of grief in his words.

“I’ve noticed our changes,” Reason continued as he took a step towards Desire, pulling their distance closer. “How… similar we have become. Even when you took the surface, you’re much, _much more_ composed than before. I noticed everything. And I’m sure that you noticed too.”

“Be careful not to pick up my bad habits, though,” Desire mocked. It’s the only way he could keep himself composed now.

Reason laughed. “I can’t help it if I do. It’s part of me anyway. Part of you.”

Desire looked away. He couldn’t bring himself to face Reason now, not when he’d decided that he shouldn’t see him anymore.

“It’s all good,” he said in a small mumbled. “You… Aoba is properly regaining his balance. Soon, there’d be no three different conscious. Just… Aoba.”

Just you.

“I know,” Reason said, calm. “I’ve noticed.”

It’s hard stating the truth out in such an upfront way, as if he’d finally signed the pact to leave this body. But it’s even harder having to say it to Reason, who was looking at him with affection so protruding in his eyes it’s hard for Desire to look at him.

“Hey,” Reason called out. He’s standing much closer to him now and he knew that he should back off. He shouldn’t be addicted to Reason’s warmth, Reason’s gentleness, Reason’s… everything of Reason’s.

“Do you really don’t want to talk to me anymore? Do you really hate me this much?”

He couldn’t say anything. He’s bad at this. Putting his feelings out wasn’t his forte. Never was. Above all, he’d decided that he should bring his feelings towards Reason to die with him anyway. He should’ve let it drown with him.

Reason wasn’t waiting for him to answer. In the next second, his hands were on his, grasping gently, warmth spread from where their skin made contact and right into Desire’s heart.

“I want to talk to you again. Properly. Just the two of us.”

He wanted Reason to stop talking. But he couldn’t. His entire life had been attached to Reason. He didn’t even notice when he started having this emotion that was more than just an urge to protect towards Reason.

He wanted to say something. Perhaps something mean so that this separation would hurt less than he wanted it to be. So he opened his mouth, wanting to tell Reason how much he hated him, and how much of a relief it was for him to be finally released off the burden of having to look after him.

But what greeted him instead was Reason’s pair of lips on his own, just delicately, lightly pecking, nothing more. It caught him completely off guard.

It was then that it occurred to him that he wasn’t the only one who never knew how to put feelings into words. Reason was… him. He never knew how to express his own feelings either, even though he was perfectly great in reasoning things out with him. Everything crashed on him as if the sky had collapsed on him. His world and every other ounce of perception he once held towards Reason and himself crushed into dust.

He wanted to cry; it’s frustrating. He thought he knew everything about Reason, about himself. But he was wrong. Why did he have to realize this only at the final moment? And how could Reason always be the person to make him understand all of these?

Overwhelmed by feelings, he staggered towards Reason, bringing him into a tight-fitting hug and returned his kiss, no longer slow, no longer soft but impatient and hard.

He adored Reason, even though he never said it out loud. But he adored him. Greatly. Reason had always been an existence so out of reach, an existence that he never dared to lay his hands on. But now, being true to who he was, he only found the urge to ravage Reason to be all the more profound, when Reason was right here, in his arms, sharing thoughts that he thought he’d bury with him.

“You should’ve told me,” Reason laughed in between their kisses. “I’m slow with this kind of thing, I wouldn’t know if you never tell me. It’s so unlike you.”

“Wonder whose influence it is,” Desire smirked. “I’ve become more and more like you and I can’t believe it myself.”

“That’s because we’re one after all,” Reason beamed.

Since when did Reason felt the same emotions as he did? Was it because of him that Reason felt this way too? Was it because they were the same person that their emotions were synchronized?

If that’s so, could Reason feel what he’s feeling now? Could he feel the insane heartbeats pumping from beneath his chest? Could he feel how much he _desired_ to ravage him here and then?

Could he feel how _overwhelmed_ his emotions were now?

“We should’ve been like this since the beginning.”

It’s a familiar statement and Desire wanted to laugh at himself for missing all the chances when he could’ve done things right for once.

For Reason.

“Then let’s not turn more circles now,” he said in a heated tone. Kissing Reason again, he held his neck against his palm, wanting to feel everything of Reason as if he’d never known him before. The same skin texture, the same voice, the same sensations that he could find on his own body; yet they were all different at the same time. They were Reason’s. He wanted nothing else but to be able to feel him for the rest of his life.

He kissed him tenderly on the cheek, on his neck, sprawling his way down to his collarbone, with one hand slipping under his shirt and finding his chest, pinpointing spots that he knew were the most sensitive. He was him, after all. And no one in this world would know him better than he knew himself.

He laughed lowly when they toppled and fell onto the soft blanket of sand, chuckled when Reason tickled a spot near his ribs, and moaned in perfect synchronization with Reason when Reason rubbed him on his length.

It was surreal to be doing this with Reason. He was always so… far away. But now, he’s right here, ready to be his, to be one with him. Literally.

“We’ll never be separated ever again, right?” Reason asked as he stroked Desire on the back of his head, where Desire had his face buried in between the crook of his neck.

“I’ll always be here,” Desire said. “I’m Aoba, after all, like it or not.”

He thought he heard a quiet sob from Reason but he decided that he did not have the courage to look at his expression to check. Instead, he slithered his hand downwards, removing Reason’s pants and found his dick, where he pumped impatiently.

“Ngh…!”

“You’re fine,” he whispered into Reason’s ear before giving his ear sell a good mischievous lick. “I’ll take care of you, like how I always do.”

He wanted him. He wanted to be one with him. Perhaps even more so. It was a sort of _desire_ so strong it’s nothing like what he ever felt before. It was only because Reason existed that he possessed such desire. Completely intoxicated by emotions, he kissed Reason again, wanting to distract himself. He felt weak. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he’d lost control over himself, that whatever he was feeling at the moment was meant to crush his sanity into dust. Yet, he continued indulging in it, completely drunk in the sensation as he kissed Reason over and over again, preparing him with movements so elegant as if his body already knew what to do.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that Reason was _him_ that he knew exactly how to make him feel good. Perhaps this way why _he_ was feeling good too, because whatever he was doing to Reason, he felt it on his own flesh – all the pleasure, the pain; everything.

They only separated their kiss when Desire positioned his dick against Reason’s hole, all ready to push into him when Reason chuckled.

“I’m feeling weird,” he said. “Like… something is going to happen and I…”

“It’s okay.” He leaned in to kiss him on his forehead. “I know. Everything will be fine.”

He knew what it was. They could no longer turn back after this. Once they were connected, they’d be disconnected.

“Ready?” Desire asked, just to make sure, even though he wasn’t even sure himself.

All Reason did was staring resolutely into his eyes. And with a nod, Desire pushed into him, slowly stretching him apart from the inside and giving him one good wrench just to bury himself entirely into Reason.

The sensation was phenomenal. His nerves were on fire, finding difficulties moving as his breathing strenuous. Noticing that, Reason moved his hips, helping him, and was quick to set a good rhythm between them. They shared kisses – quick ones, deep ones, wet ones; every other kisses they knew would make the other feel good. It was more than sex at this point; the indulgence level both of them were feeling was more than just raw physical lust. They were synchronizing with each other in all ways. With every passing second, they felt their emotions towards each other in a more penetrating way than ever, as if they were _really_ becoming one, feeling each other as if they’re feeling themselves.

The end came in a way that’s both gratifying and anguishing. Their last kiss was shared with the best fervour they could muster, with Desire staring into Reason’s eyes, his pair of gaze one that Reason thought he would only see on himself.

He was contented in ways he never could imagine – just like that, in the arms of the only person he cared in this world, hearing his heartbeats until when conscious cut him off.

 

* * *

 

 

You’d only realize the importance of something when you lost it. Since when did he notice his feelings? He didn’t have the answer to it. But it felt as if he’d been feeling this way for the rest of his life, the feelings simply being curbed by fear to acknowledge how abnormal he actually was. He thought it was a phase, and how so naive he was then to realize that time had been raiding everything away from him while he dillydallied on the way towards lost. It’s when he felt the conscious of _him_ losing with every passing moment that he came to realize that he was wrong -- and he no longer had enough time to fix his mistake.

When he woke up the next day, he felt both completed and incomplete. He felt as if he was reborn. Looking into the mirror told him of trivial differences he might never realize if he was merely on his own. With a hand against his heart, he smiled, trying as hard as he could to tell himself that this was alright, that this was meant to be, and everything would be okay.

Like how _he_ had told him.

He could no longer hear his voice, his migraine gone, but he found courage that he never thought was possible for him. He changed, just a bit, and he knew it’s all because _he_ had become scrupulously one with him that he was able to be so.

How is it possible for a person to lose part of themselves? It’s probably a question many wouldn’t ask if they were normal, which was anything but Aoba was. He soon came to realize that it’s called ‘change’, a phase that many would go through in order to adapt to life. Change had him becoming a stronger person than before, perhaps even more barefaced, and even more courageous when it came to confronting injustice. Experiences gave him the confidence to live through days like he’d never been before.

And he knew that none of this would be possible if it wasn’t because of Desire.

It’s not like it wasn’t an ending he’d anticipated. They’d made their feelings clear in the end, anyway. There shouldn’t be any regrets.

There really shouldn’t be.

“Let’s go, Ren.”

He picked his bag up from under the counter, already getting approval from Haga-san to leave for the day as he carried Ren into his arms.

“Understood.”

Ren, or rather, Restraint, had come to the perfect awareness of his existence now. He was Aoba’s right-hand, as he always was, and the fact that his conscious was still integral was a miracle of its own. Aoba was sure that he’d fused with his own conscious like how Desire did if he wasn’t given a body of his own, though. It relieved him; at the very least, he still had something physical by his side to remind him that whatever that he’d been through -- all these realization about who he really was, and his acquaintance with Desire -- wasn’t a dream after all. Ren said nothing about Desire’s absence, although Aoba was perfectly sure that it was only because Ren didn’t want to hurt Aoba more in any way that he’d been keeping quiet about the matter. Just the mere mention of Desire had Aoba distracted, just the mere reminder of Desire sent remorse right into his chest, having him to wonder if things would’ve been different if he’d done something during the days when Desire struggled with his own loss of existence.

Midorijima was ever still the same as he stepped out of Heibon, stretched, and walked down the street. Both Rib and Rhyme were still pretty much happening, just that he no longer had any interest to be dealing with any of it. He needed time, something that he’d been using as an excuse to help him get over the sudden lost. He needed to get used to it and having time by his side was the only way he could do so.

An uproar from a distance disturbed his thought as he came to a stop, hands in his jacket pockets, and he stared at the direction where people were rushing towards.

It was still early, he still had some time till dinner, and since when was the last time he’d witnessed a Rhyme match anyway? His legs making the decision for him, he joined the crowd, walking towards where a Rhyme match was conjured.

He never knew why _he_ was so fascinated with Rhyme. Was it because that it’s the only place where he felt more accepted? What was he soughing out of it? Sense of accomplishment? Just that feeling of being recognized? He had a lot of things that he had yet to know about Desire, and he hoped he would’ve done so before time made him regret it now.

He leaned against the wall, merely staring as bright neon lights intruded the once-dark alley. Usually, he’d already be feeling the familiar headache by now, which he never knew was Desire expressing his enthusiasm until now. The fact that he wasn’t feeling anything even from the pumped-up mood around him told him enough that Desire might have brought that obsession away with him.

Then why… why did he leave this affection he held towards him with Aoba in him? Or perhaps, he simply couldn’t bring it away with him? It’s like a constant reminder of how he really felt towards Aoba and how Aoba reflected the same emotion perfectly well at him. Everything was never clear to Aoba until when he had to experience it himself, and sometimes, he wondered if this was all merely a punishment Desire had left with him just to tell him that this repentance was what he’d get for wanting to get rid of him in the past.

He heaved a low sigh. The Rhyme match had started by now but he had absolutely no interest to watch it. He turned his back, wanting to leave the scene when he heard something -- a _name_ \-- that had him stopping in his tracks, his heart picking up speed.

“Aoba!”

Ren seemed to have noticed it as well. Pulling on Aoba’s heels, he hinted him, but Aoba didn’t need him to do so. He ran towards the crowd, trying to squeeze himself through the gap, just so he could see with his own eyes, to prove that whatever he had been guessing was reality.

But then, that split second of hope was robbed from him the moment he set his eyes on the Rhyme scene.

What was he expecting, anyway? _He’s gone_. No matter how much he wanted to fix it, no matter how much he wanted him back, it’s impossible.

 _This was the best for them_.

He pulled himself out of the crowd, feeling the weight returning to his heart when he stopped again, his back hitting a person as he backed out of the mass of humans.

“Could’ve at least tried to train himself up before he attempts to use my name, really.”

He thought he’d forgotten how to breathe. He turned sharply around, and found himself overwhelmed by all the emotions he’d been trying hard to bury ever since he lost _him_.

“Seriously, though, can’t people even tell it’s a fake?” the man, who’d come to stand by his side stared at the match as he said with a profound sigh. “Just because his hair is blue, c’mon.”

He didn’t even care about the match now. Totally driven by raw impulse, he tossed himself towards the man, hugging him, almost toppling him down.

“Woah, what’s the matter with you?!”

“Y-you…” he muffled into the man’s shoulder. Words were too hard, his mind a mess.

“Oi,” the man called out, sounding visibly annoyed.

He pulled himself out of the embrace, finding a pair of light-brown eyes staring back at him, looking mildly surprised.

Wavy blue hair, that pair of gaze that looked as if he was about to be absorbed into it, and that face -- _that face_ \-- that was so, _so similar_ to him.

The man looked equally, if not more surprised than him.

“Who exactly are you?”

His next words sent a pang of ache into Aoba’s chest but he hugged him again, totally driven by impulse blessed by Desire as he patted the man on the back of his head.

“Welcome home,” he said.

If he could be given a chance to fix what he did wrong to _him_ , he’d gladly take it without any hesitations. That very chance came in a form of more mess he needed to fix, in a way that was both utterly intricate and perplexing.

But there must be a reason why he was being given this chance again. There must be a reason why _they_ were being given another chance.

He wanted to believe in it -- that this time, he would never do wrong to _him_ ever again.

And perhaps this time, it’d be his turn to look after him, to live together, not as one person --

\-- but as _two_ , right by each other’s side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might just be a prelude to an after-story multi-chapter but... everyone knows me too well that it'll come to this lol!  
> Thank you for reading! <3


	4. Extra: One Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took time but they’re finally there.

Perhaps the reason why Desire wasn’t showing any palpable senses when he bid his farewell to him was because he knew that this day would come – that he’d see him again, like this, physically, being separate entities of their own. He couldn’t tell what Desire was thinking anyway, despite being part of him. And even when they’d integrated, he still found himself having difficulties trying to understand his thought process. Desire was always distant, despite outspoken. Aoba had come to notice that everything he’d spelled out was a defensive attempt to protect himself. His entire life had been dedicated to protect Aoba and he wasn’t at all surprised that he’d choose to hide himself away under the tough shell he’d built for himself just so others wouldn’t crack ‘Aoba’.

He came to notice it a bit too late, though. He’d had his own remorse about this matter but above all, he’d hoped that there’s at least something he could do to repent everything Desire had done for him.

Something like… taking care of this body of his – a gift that had costed Desire’s sacrificial.

He’d noticed the change in him with every passing day, and he was certain that he wasn’t the only person being aware of such a change. He was still very much the Aoba everyone else knew, but he was also another Aoba, his personality a beautiful, complete mix. There were times when his outlandish actions came off as a shock to others; it’s been more than a couple of times when someone would tell him that he ‘felt different’. And every time, he’d brush them off, telling them that this was how he’s supposed to be from the beginning.

There were times when he’d lie on his own bed, staring at the ceiling, hearing his own heartbeats in his ears and wondered if they were beating for two conscious instead of one, even though he knew very well that no matter how hard he hoped, there’s no way Desire would return to him anymore. Oftentimes, he’d close his eyes, trying to hear Desire’s voice, trying to simply sense a hint of existence in him. But every time, it resulted in nothing but disappointment, causing him to roll over and bury his face in his pillow, cursing at how imprudent he’d become.

Desire never let himself go for him to become this way.

Desire trusted him – that’s why he’d released his conscious for him, putting his own ‘existence’ in his good hands, believing that he’d live up to being the ‘Aoba’ they always wanted to be.

Desire never wanted him to be a pathetic person like how he’s presenting himself now.

Desire… never wanted him to be unhappy.

But yet.

_Yet_.

There would still be nights when he’d lie awake, staring into the distance, and wonder if Desire was fine and happy wherever he was now. He never dared to make a wish of wanting to see him ever again. But still, he wished – he wished that Desire was fine, that there was no regret, and that he was contented with leaving matters into his hands.

But, every one of those thoughts was wiped into nothingness when he found himself staring at none other but himself half a year after losing him. He thought it was a dream, that it was simply a result from him thinking too much about wanting to see him again. But there  _he_  was – alive, physically. He couldn’t quite believe it. So he lurched towards  _him_ , wanting to touch  _him_ , wanting to confirm for himself that he wasn’t hallucinating.

The fine, long strands of blue hair. The soft skin texture that was very much his own. The penetrating stare that only the true Desire could conjure, alongside the truncated voice just one tone lower than his own. He was familiar with every ounce of existence this person he was holding in his hands vibrated. They felt like his own, like they had been living within him for the longest time ever. He felt as if he was being slapped into a reality he never knew existed, he felt as if every part of his life that he’d been living in was a huge deception of its own.

Desire was here – just right here, presenting himself as a second chance.

“Who exactly are you?”  _he_ ’d asked. Aoba had no answer for  _him_. He was in a mess himself; he didn’t know what to think, nor should he even be thinking about anything at all. He didn’t know what to tell this man, he didn’t know where to start. And, before he knew it, he’d slipped the the words that he’d been dying to tell ever since he lost him out of his mouth, before he could stop himself. Two words that held more words than any other thing he could ever say at that moment of the time.

“Welcome home.”

He wanted to believe that this time, he would never do wrong to  _him_  ever again. That this time, it was their turn to live not as one, but as two, right by each other’s side.

Explaining to his grandmother was more complicated than he expected it to be, yet, Tae was a considerate person, as Aoba would’ve expected her to be. When she saw  _him_ , she only stared in surprised, before she brushed them away, saying things like wanting to give them time of their own. Aoba was beyond grateful. He couldn’t quite explain how but he could already feel that privacy was perhaps what  _he_  needed the most now so he took  _him_  in his hand, ushering  _him_ up to his own room, all prepared to face any questions  _he_  was to throw at him.

“I’m sure you have a lot of things to ask,” he said the moment he closed the door.

_He_ ’d settled himself on the bed, sitting on the edge of it as  _he_  gazed around the room, visibly surprised. Aoba came to sit by  _his_  side, allowing  _him_  to take as much time as  _he_  needed, all the while fixing his gaze on  _him_.

“You can take your time,” he reassured.  _He_  must be feeling very out of place with this sudden change of event. Aoba didn’t even know of  _his_  background, or if  _he_  was really the person he was dying for  _him_ to be. Perhaps  _he_  could be just a coincidence, a person whom had  _his_  very own life, very own family. Perhaps Aoba was simply being too wishful, or selfish; just for wanting to see  _him_ again. But even so,  _he_  didn’t push him away when Aoba brought  _him_  here. He knew that  _he_  could easily do that, but something in the spark of  _his_  eyes told Aoba that  _he_  possessed none of those intentions, and maybe,  _he_  was also as dumbfounded as Aoba was.

“Would you mind to, at least, tell me your name?” he broke the silence after a long while, when  _he_  dropped  _his_  gaze to  _his_  knees.

Instead of answering,  _he_  looked up, staring right into Aoba’s eyes.

“Erm, I’m–”

Aoba was about to say something – his name – but  _he_  came closer to him, pressing a finger against his lips and inching close to his neck, sniffing.

“Erm…”

“Shh,”  _he_  hushed, effectively shutting Aoba up.

He couldn’t tell what’s the deal with  _him_  but he had to admit that  _he_  felt painfully like how he remembered Desire to be and he was only more and more convinced that this was the person he was looking for with every passing minute.

“You smell like me,”  _he_  said at long last, lifting a gaze, meeting Aoba’s own eyes.

“…I guess so,” Aoba could only say.

And, before he could say anything more,  _he_ ’d broke their eye contact, pushing himself closer towards Aoba instead, the hot breath Aoba felt on his neck giving him goosebumps.

“I…”  _he_  started.  _He_  seemed like  _he_  was having difficulties spelling  _his_  own thoughts and Aoba couldn’t blame him for that. He was having difficulties himself, even though he was aware that he might be the person whom knew more in between the both of them.

“I’ve been looking out,”  _he_  mumbled against Aoba’s neck, sending chills down his spine. “For something, someone.”

_His_  voice was so light, so flickering, like a very small whisper, disappearing into the air like it’d never existed in the first place.

“I never knew who I am,”  _he_  continued. In an effort to support himself, Aoba had held onto  _his_  arm, feeling  _his_  hand on his own at the same time. “I only know that I need to find something.”

He didn’t know how to respond. Everything  _he_  was presenting to him was too surreal, like a sweet whisper, like a seductive deception.

“I don’t have a name,”  _he_  raised his voice a tad, bringing it back to its normal volume. “But I know one name.”

When Aoba looked downwards, he saw his own reflections in  _his_  golden orbs, a pair of eyes he was already more than familiar with. He already knew what  _he_ wanted to say.  _He_ ’s him, after all. There’s no mistaking it.

“Aoba,” he interrupted instead, lifting a small smile when he saw  _his_  eyes widened.

“Aoba,” he repeated, bringing his hands to cup  _his_  face.

“Aoba…”  _he_  mumbled under  _his_  breath, closing  _his_  eyes, as if letting the word swim in  _his_  mind.

“Aoba,” Aoba said again. He pressed his forehead against the top of  _his_  head, suddenly finding relief in his chest.

Then,  _he_  moved, hands encircling around Aoba’s torso, giving no space between them.

“Aoba,”  _his_  low voice vibrated in Aoba’s ear. He wanted to say something, but before he could do exactly so, a soft sensation hit him on his neck, causing his body to jolt.

“Still sensitive, I see.”

He wanted to see what kind of expression  _he_ ’s showing now, if it was the same expression he had in his mind. But he can’t. Desire was holding him in such a strong way that he could hardly breathe. He embraced him as if he’d never want to let him go again. And so, Aoba returned that hug, patting him on the back of his head, letting him kiss every inch of skin he could reach.

“Stay with me this time, will you?” he mumbled into Desire’s hair.

He heard a chuckle that he knew was drawn from a smirk.

“We’ll see about that.”

There were many things that they needed to make clear with each other – how Desire had obtained his own form, how Desire managed to return, how they could continue living like this, as two entities – but all of those could wait. Because for now, this moment belonged to them, and not even their other conscious can disturb this pacifying moment of them becoming one again.


End file.
